“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, knocking my hand away so that she could leave the bathroom. But I was quick to catch her around the waist and pull her back against me so that I could ask, “Come to the game tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“So you can see all the hard work you’ve put in with me be brought to life,” I replied, my answer making her giggle as she responded, “Hawk, it’s preseason. You’re only gonna play like, two series. Three at the most.”
I couldn’t argue that. In fact, I was lowkey counting on that being true since there was no amount of individual training that could prepare me for live game action, and I needed some time to get my feet wet. But I knew that giving even a little attention to Racquel meant less would be available for whatever the fuck was going on between me and Yani. And with that on my mind, it was easy to switch it up when I told her, “Okay, so then come because I want you to.”
Turning around to face me, she looked legitimately flattered as she asked, “You mean that?”
For some reason, her question brought some pause as I considered what I was really doing. I mean, I knew no matter what, things with Racquel would probably never go beyond casual, and I didn’t want my invitation to give the wrong impression. But even on a casual level, there was still fun to be had. So instead of making shit more complicated, I simply replied, “Yeah, I do.”
With her lips pursed together, she averted her eyes and teased, “I guess I can come since I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Oh, it’s like that?”
“You should probably get some sleep,” she giggled, pushing herself out of my hold to head back to the living room as she tossed over her shoulder, “Thanks for the dick though.”
“Mmhm,” I groaned before informing her, “I’ll have two tickets for you at will call.”
It was common courtesy to give tickets out in sets since it wasn’t like very many people wanted to attend a football game -or any sporting event- by themselves. But I shouldn’t have been surprised when Racquel gave a little smirk before responding, “I’ll be sure to bring a friend from high school.”
* * *
Our starting QB was trash.
Last season, he’d shown a lot of potential as a backup, especially after he rose to the occasion of replacing our starting QB at the time who’d unfortunately been dealt a career-ending leg injury right before the playoffs. But tonight, it felt like I was watching a completely different player, the nerves of being named QB1 clearly showing their ass as my guy threw yet another incompletion in the direction of our best offensive weapon, Hunter Gordon.
Like me, Hunter had recently gotten his big payday after leading the league in receptions for the past two years, making him the highest paid wide receiver of the moment. But without somebody to get him the ball on a consistent basis, he was bound to have people talking shit about how he must not have deserved the money, a problem I would also have if our squad didn’t make it back to the playoffs this year.
So, yeah. I was keeping an eye on that situation with the offense while also making sure our defense was on point since that was the only thing I could really control. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how good it felt to be back on the field with my squad, the energy of home games always something special since I’d literally been dreaming about being a part of the Houston Skyhawks organization since I was a little kid.
Somehow, I always knew I’d be wearing their signature yellow gold, white, and black one day. And even though it was only preseason, I wasn’t taking that shit for granted, truly grateful to be participating in my sixth season even though ol’ boy was pissing me off.
“Come on, man!” I yelled once he threw another ball in the dirt, the sight of special teams transitioning onto the field for a punt making me roll my eyes as I yanked my helmet back on in preparation for what would likely be my final series of the game. But considering I hadn’t been at a practice yet this season, I was planning on going all out, turning into the “Hawk” I’d been branded as once it was time for me to hit the gridiron after the punt returner successfully completed a fair catch.
Jogging out onto the field, I slapped hands with my teammates who were exiting before joining my guys for a quick huddle to discuss what coverage we’d be playing. And once the offense broke their huddle with a clap, we did the same, getting in position on the opposite side of the line as the quarterback called out a play for his team that I already had a response for since I could clearly see what was about to happen.
My eyes bounced back and forth between the quarterback and the gap in their offensive line that I planned on blasting through the second it was legal to do so, my reaction time one of my greatest assets as I took off with a vengeance once the center snapped the ball. And because of that natural instinct for the game, I registered my first tackle of the year on the running back who’d just received a handoff, hyped as hell about that shit even though preseason stats weren’t really a thing.
“Welcome back, nigga!” our defensive tackle, Big Gerald, shouted as he smacked my helmet hard as shit in celebration, forcing me to shake it off so that I could line up for second down. And thankfully, their QB was just as terrible as ours, the series ending with a three and out that sent me to the sidelines for the rest of the night.
From there, I got to sit back and observe everything I’d been missing out on over the last few months.
The rookies who I’d yet to officially meet but was also looking forward to hazing a little bit...
My backup who was struggling against a weak ass, second-team offense even though the media had acted like he was the next best thing...
QB2 who looked ten times better than our starter had tonight...
“Yo, who is that?” I asked out loud after he bulldozed a defender on his way into the end zone for our first touchdown of the night, the sideline already celebrating as Big Gerald answered, “That’s Snoop. Real name Kendall Dogwood.”
“Where he from?”
“Shit, nowhere and everywhere,” he responded with a shrug before explaining, “Got drafted late by Arizona a few years back, and been bouncing around the league tryna land a starting gig ever since.”
With a nod, I replied, “He’s in the right spot then.”
“Man, who you tellin’?” Big Gerald agreed. “I honestly don’t even know what they see in ol’ boy at this point.”